


Sanctuary Tapes: Continued

by Smokeycut



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Confessionals, Gen, Healing, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-23 11:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19700551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smokeycut/pseuds/Smokeycut
Summary: Sanctuary is a place of healing for superheroes. It's a place where they can open up and talk about the things that heroes aren't supposed to talk about. A place where they can be vulnerable.These are a few of the the Sanctuary Tapes that have not yet been seen by the public.





	1. Anarky / Lonnie Machin

**Author's Note:**

> We all know Heroes In Crisis sucked major ass, and I know I'm not the first person to do this, but eh. It's a good writing exercise, and I like the idea of superheroes talking about their problems. Hope you enjoy!

A young man in a long, hooded red coat sits down in the chair. A scarf hangs around his neck, a circle A symbol painted on it in sloppy red paint. An expressionless golden mask covers his face. In his hands, held in his lap, is a golden staff. He sits up straight, and looks at the camera.

“I was thirteen years old when I first put on this mask. I was short, so I… God, it sounds so stupid, but I rigged up a mannequin head and stilts to make myself look like an adult.”

He lets out a short, uncomfortable laugh. It turns into a sigh. He leans forward, elbows on his thighs.

“My dad tried to take the heat for me. He didn’t even know what I was doing, but he… He told me to hide in a closet when Batman came. He tried going to jail in my place.”

He leans back in the chair, and tosses his head back. His hood falls off, and long blond locks of hair spill out over his shoulders. 

“I found out I was adopted when I got out of juvie. My mom and dad never told me, but there was this investigation. CPS wanted to decide if my parents were at fault for my actions. I don’t think that’d have happened if they were my bio parents.” 

He turns his head to the side, just slightly, and sighs again. 

“I faked my death when I was sixteen. Two years ago. I just… I didn’t want them to worry anymore. I didn’t want them to be blamed for the things I did. So their son died a martyr, and everyone gets to remember them as good parents.”

He looks back up at the ceiling. Clenches his staff tighter in a white knuckled grip. 

“They _were_ good parents. They were the _best_ parents. The only parents I ever knew. The only ones, except… Except for _him_.”

He shudders, and his staff falls from his hands. It clatters on the floor, out of frame of the camera. He sits up and runs a hand through his hair. His other hand claws at his knee through the fabric of his pants. 

“He came to me last year.”

He stops, and shudders again.

“He came to me last year, and he told me he was my bio dad. That my birth mom was just… Just some random fangirl of his. He asked to… To do things for him. To try and sabotage Batman’s life. And I did it for him, too. Everything he wanted. I don’t know _why_ , but I… I just… I just wanted him to be _proud_ of me…”

He folds in on himself, his hands gripping the sides of his head as he looks straight down at his knees. All sense of decorum and presentation forgotten.

“I was so desperate for a father that I let the Joker turn me into his lackey. I let him twist me around and manipulate me, just like he manipulates everyone else. And he… He wasn’t even telling the truth…”

He shudders again. His fingers dig into his scalp, twisting around locks of golden blond hair. 

“And the worst part is, I _knew_ he was lying. Deep down, from the very first word, I could tell. But I just… I just wanted to believe he was telling the truth. I just wanted my dad to be _proud_ of me…”

He lets go. Falls limp, for a moment. His body hangs there, exhausted. Slowly, he sits back up. He reaches for his face, and grabs the expressionless golden mask. 

“But I _do_ have a father out there. My real father. His name is Mike Machin. He raised me. He loved me. He forgave me for every bad thing I did.”

He removes the mask. 

Tears are streaming down his cheeks. His eyes are red and bleary. But he’s smiling.

“He was proud of me.”


	2. Katana / Tatsu Yamashiro

She stops for a moment, and looks at the chair. Then at the camera. A white mask covers the top half of her face, and she wears a simple red and black bodysuit. Her sword is sheathed on her back. Her hair is short, and jet black. She shakes her head dismissively. 

"This is a waste of time."

After another moment, she sits. She's stiff, her legs pressed together and her hands folded in her lap.

"Back home, it is... Not _normal_ to do this. I'm not _weak_. I do not need to be coddled, or to talk about things that make me sad. I'm stronger than this."

She lets out her breath. Clenches her fists. Then she lets go. Stares into the camera, her mouth twisted into a grimace. 

"They want me to talk about my family. They won't say it, but I know that is the reason why. My family is gone. My husband is dead. My children are... They are dead."

She trembles, and looks down at her lap. 

"It can't be helped. But I am... I am fine. I am _coping_. That is what they want, no? For me to move on? Well I have. I have moved on, and I battle criminals so that nobody else must lose what I have lost."

She reaches back, and pulls her sword from its sheath. She lays it across her lap, and stares into her reflection in the blade.

"Maseo is trapped inside Soultaker. He always will be. When I die... Either I will be slain by my own blade, and I will join him... Or I will pass on, and I will see our children again. But... But I cannot be with all of them."

She hangs her head, and grips the sword's hilt tightly. She shuts her eyes and breathes slowly. 

"I miss them. I miss Maseo, and I... I miss my twins. My baby girls..."

She shakes her head. Sheathes her blade. Holds herself up straight, with her arms wrapped around herself. Her face betrays no emotion. 

"But I must move on. I _have_ moved on. I've started over, in America. I am a hero now. I have adopted a new child. Gabrielle. I must be strong for her sake."

Her expression falters. A ragged gasp escapes her lips, and she doubles over. She sobs.

"Have I betrayed them? Am I a bad mother, for trying again? Reiko and Yuki, do they... Do they hate me, for taking her in? Do they hate me, for not perishing along with them?"

She looks into the camera. Tears are dripping down, from under her mask. Her mouth is open, and her eyes are searching for some sort of answer.

"I long to be with my family again, but... But dying now would not be fair to Gabrielle. I cannot leave her alone. She needs me."

She places her head in her hands, and another sob escapes from her lips. 

"But that doesn't make the pain stop. I love Gabrielle with _all_ my heart, but my _heart_ still _breaks_ for every day that I am not with Maseo and Reiko and Yuki."

She looks into the camera one final time. Her shoulders sag, and she shakes her head weakly. 

"Why can I not have them all at once?"


	3. Bluebird / Harper Row

She reclines in the chair, her arm slung over the back and one leg crossed over the other. A blue mask covers her eyes, and black kevlar shields her chest. A blue, winged symbol is painted on top. A harness holds everything else, tasers and grapnels and other handmade tech, in place. 

"Man, it's weird being back in the costume. I get why, privacy and stuff, but it's weird, y'know? I haven't even pulled it out of the trunk in my closet since I retired."

She sighs, and runs a hand through her purple and blue hair. 

"Guess I should just get started, huh? Alright, uh... I guess I'm here because I can't talk to my regular therapist about the superhero stuff. I've tried, but I had to talk in code and she just didn't get it. So... Here I am."

She uncrosses and spreads her legs, and drops her arm over the back of the chair again. 

"I lost my mom when I was a kid. I'm pretty open about it. Much as I can be, anyways. My dad is a douchebag, so I've been taking care of my brother and me ever since I was old enough to. I don't gotta do it alone though. Ca- Right. No codenames. Batgirl spends a lot of time at my place. Spoiler too. They help out when I need it."

Her smile falters, and her gaze flicks down. She looks like she's searching for something to say. 

"Batgirl and I have gotten pretty close, ever since we met. She's like, my best friend, aside from Spoiler. We spend so much time together lately. I feel like she gets me in a way most people don't. But there's also this... I dunno, there's this part of it that makes it so _weird_. Weird isn't the right word... It's like, we shouldn't be friends, you know? I shouldn't be... And she... Ca- Batgirl, I mean, she..."

She trails off, and looks away. Her lips twitch, then pull downwards. 

"...She killed my mom."

She shoots up suddenly. One hand is on her hip, the other at the back of her head. 

" _Fuck_! What's wrong with me, man? Wh-What the fuck is _wrong_ with me?!"

She paces back and forth, digging into her neck with one gloved hand. A scowl is written across her face.

"She killed my _mom_ , and I... I don't hate her for it. I _can't_ hate her for it! She's not a bad person, they _made_ her do it! Mom would get that, wouldn't she? She was understanding, right? So she'd get that... She'd get that Batgirl isn't a bad person, right?"

She stops, and stands still for several moments, saying nothing. She looks at the camera, sighs, and slowly sits back down. She hunches over, forearms placed on her thighs. Her scowl is gone, replaced by a look of confusion and worry.

"Am I a bad person? Is there something wrong with me? There has to be, right? Why would I... Why am I... _Fuck_..."

She hangs her head. Her voice falls quieter, after how typically loud she's been. Hardly above a whisper.

"What kind of sicko falls in love with the girl who killed her mom?"


	4. Frost / Caitlin Snow

She sits with her arms wrapped around herself. A heavy winter coat, with white fur trim around the hood, is pulled over her body. Still, in the midst of summer, she seems cold. And it isn't just the blue skin. 

"Hello. I'm Doctor Caitlin Snow. People call me Frost."

She tries to look professional, but her expression is already beginning to fall. She scratches behind her ear.

"That's... Not quite true, actually. Most people still call me _Killer_ Frost. But I'm not a killer anymore. I'm a _hero_."

She cups her hands around her mouth and breathes onto them. Rubs them together. Rubs her cheeks. Then she laughs, weakly. 

"The accident happened a few years ago. I've had this... Well, we call it "heat vampirism", ever since. I need to steal heat from other people in order to live. And when I don't steal heat... I get cold. So cold."

She shrinks in on herself, and pulls the coat tighter around her. Still, she shivers.

"My boyfriend Ryan and I... We've been looking for a cure. I don't know if we'll ever find one, though. But I've been managing it better lately. Really, I have. I just take a little bit, here and there. Enough to survive, but not enough to hurt anyone. Not enough to kill. Not... Not anymore."

She pulls her hood up and looks down at her feet. Hiding herself, hiding her face, hiding her guilt.

"That's why they call me Killer. Killer Frost, the murderer who they let onto the Justice League. The monster that founded the Justice Foundation."

She sighs, and presses a hand against her forehead.

"I fought the Justice League, the Outsiders, the Outlaws... Firestorm. I fought Firestorm a lot. That's how I learned to use my powers. By fighting heroes."

She drops her hand to her lap. Wrings her hands nervously, and bites her lip.

"Working for the Justice Foundation, I meet a lot of new people. Other heroes, news crews, reporters, civilians... I like it. I _like_ talking to people. It's one of the things I missed most about my old life."

She looks away again, and shoves her hands into the pockets of her coat.

"Every time, I ask them to call me Frost. Just Frost. But they always call me Killer. That's not who I am anymore... It's not who I ever wanted to be..."

She looks into the camera. Tears quite literally frozen halfway down her cheeks. Glinting like crystals in the light. 

"I'm not a killer anymore. It's just Frost."


	5. Doctor October / Victoria October

She sits down in the chair and folds her gloved hands in her lap. Her painted black lips are twisted into a rueful smile. Black hair with a single white streak is parted neatly down the center, but she has tired, heavy eyes.

“I’ve developed a bit of a reputation in recent years. I’m the monster scientist. It’s largely self cultivated, I know, but...”

She sighs, and her shoulders slump.

“There’s a _reason_ for my fascination with them, you know. Manbat, Killer Croc, Poison Ivy... _Clayface_... I’ve had experience with them all. I’ve tried to help with all of their conditions. I keep trying, trying and failing to help them, because...”

Her face falls, and she runs a hand through her hair. 

“I relate to them. I hate to admit it, it’s so... so self-pitying, but I truly do relate to them. I know what it’s like to stare into a mirror and feel _disgusted_ by what you see reflected back at you. I didn’t transition until my late twenties. I’ve spent more of my life feeling like a _monster_ than like _myself_.”

A tear pricks at her eye, and she sniffles lightly.

“...I tried to kill myself as a child. It was puberty. That was _my_ transformation into a monster. I didn’t understand myself at the time, but I knew I hated it. And I just find myself thinking... If I felt like a monster then, how painful must it be to _actually_ be transformed against your will into something that society labels dangerous? Frightening? _Monstrous_?”

She wipes the tears away with the back of her hand, and sniffles again. 

“I’m _not_ a monster. I don’t think _anyone_ is a monster. Not physically, at least. Perhaps morally, but ones shape cannot be monstrous in my eyes. So I feel this sense of... Of camaraderie with them.”

She smiles softly, and tilts her head. There’s a certain fondness that creeps into her expression.

“The night that I first met Basil Karlo, I made him a promise. I promised him that I would, someday, help him become his true self again.”

Her smile shifts. The lines in her face grow softer, and she looks warmer. Happier. A sad sort of happiness.

“He loved me. Wholly and genuinely and truly, he did. And I never got a chance to tell him before he died, but... The truth is, I loved him too. I never thought, as a child, that I’d be able to find love. Who could love someone like me?”

She laughs to herself. It’s a short, pained laugh, which quickly turns over to a sigh.

“But _he_ did. Basil Karlo loved me. He loved every part of me. So I couldn’t just _abandon_ him to the cruel, dark fate of a monster.”

She smiles wistfully to herself. As though the camera wasn’t there, filming her. As though she was all alone. 

“That’s why I saved him. Why I lied to everyone, even Batman, about his death. He’s still alive, and I’m still working on a cure. I know that someday I’ll find it. He deserves to be himself. To have a normal life again. Maybe then we’ll get to... Well, we’ll get to that when we get to it. Now, if you’d kindly, please delete all of this.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed this!


End file.
